


something about us

by ribbonelle



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universes, Drabble Collection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-18
Updated: 2014-07-22
Packaged: 2018-02-09 10:29:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1979457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ribbonelle/pseuds/ribbonelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabbles revolving around the two close friends who could have been something more, given time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. beginning

**Author's Note:**

> written with the prompt 'beginning' for a drabble a day. a slight twist to canon, i suppose.

It wasn’t always like this.

Marco seemed to retract into an invisible shell as of late, smiling and laughing the way he always does in one moment and eventually there’d be a pause, a rift in time where he would snap his mouth shut and look utterly, utterly lost.

It was almost unnoticeable, this momentary change, but Jean had known Marco for a while and was also closest to him, so of course Jean noticed.

The most disturbing part was the way his eyes softened just a split second before that helpless look took place, the way his smile warmed, the way his whole being seemed to go lax.

It wasn’t always like this.

Jean figured that it started about a month ago, little errors in Marco’s usually comfortable behaviour. Possibly a while after Jean lost hold of himself and kissed Marco silly against the wall of their empty barracks, before spitting out an apology and a request for Marco to never mention the incidence again.

But it wasn’t like it mattered, either.


	2. haze

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written for the prompt 'haze', under a drabble a day. this one isn't happy. following events after trost, during the mass cremation.

He’d never been to a funeral such as this before.

Back in Trost, a time before everything went to shit, the people would bury their dead and would say a few words; an eulogy, reliving funny experiences or happy memories, always saying nice things concerning the deceased. Then they’d bury the body, six feet under, and place a slab of stone engraved with small details of the person who was underneath it. Jean had always thought the proceedings were a little vague, a little too hypocritical.

But then he witnessed the funeral of soldiers.

The fire was intense, licking and spitting, its tendrils reaching high upwards into the night sky and the smoke was burning his eyes, the atmosphere turning hazy. There were numerous bodies burnt in that fire, so many Jean couldn’t even begin to keep track and they burned, ashes floating around.

Jean had never seen anything more impersonal. Bodies stacked up on a pile of wood; a pyre; and then unceremoniously burnt. No one had said a word. Some trainees were crying, soft sobs being the undertone of the sounds of wood crackling, most were just staring at the flames as if transfixed.

Marco was in there, and something was achingly hollow in the space between Jean’s ribs.

His eyes stung from the acrid smoke, from the ashes rising upwards to the night sky. Haze filled his vision, blurry gray. He was crying, he knew, but the heat of the flames made it hard to register.

Maybe this is how soldiers are supposed to go. In ashes. Not six feet under, not to break into pieces and become one with earth. The ground had no place for them, it seemed.


	3. silver

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU, modern day. Also piercings.

He couldn’t take his eyes off the fucking thing. It was bothering him in ways he couldn’t understand, and it was getting a little overwhelming.

Jean Kirschtein’s new lip piercing.

Of course, Marco had seen people with piercings before, in various areas of their body, but he had never been as fascinated as he was now. Maybe it had something to do with the piercing being on his coursemate’s admittedly attractive face. Maybe it had something to do with the way Jean would absently tug at it with his teeth, gently, or how he’d run his tongue over the metal when he thought no one was looking.

Maybe it had something to do with the big ass crush Marco had been having on Jean ever since he met the guy three years ago, but these were all assumptions, naturally.


	4. order

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written for a drabble a day, with the prompt 'order.' AU, modern day. this is so dumb. rough language, maybe.

“Eat,” Marco said, attempting to sound firm. He thought he was doing a pretty good job, but Jean simply sneered, pushing the menu away from himself with a finger.

“No.”

It was 2 in the morning, and there were not many people in the 24-hour burger joint they were at. Both of them were more than sleep-deprived, to the point where every little thing was funny and dramatics tended to go too far.

“I said, _eat.”_ Marco frowned, hand lifting to point his own finger accusingly at Jean, “I am not eating alone here like an absolute douchebag, so _eat.”_

Jean’s sneer merely widened, and this reminder of his roommate/casual boyfriend’s actual assholery made Marco lower his voice a little, in warning, “Jean. That’s an order.”

It was probably the fact that it was buttfuck o’ clock, or because they were in a seedy diner, or because said diner’s flickering lights were illuminating Marco’s face just so, but Jean snapped his mouth shut right away, sneer wiped from his face.

Marco was just about to feel smug, when Jean started squirming.

“Oh no, you don’t.”

“But Marcooo,” came the whine, “That was _hot_.”

“Whatever the hell it is, we’re gonna eat, and _if_ you behave, I’ll think about it. And stop fucking me with your eyes.”

The answer seemed to appease Jean, and he obliged, tugging the menu back to himself.

He never stopped eyeing Marco suggestively though.


	5. capnolagia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wrote this for tumblr user antiperspirantforbertholdt's birthday! its based on capnolagia; which is the sexual fetish based on the sight or image of a person smoking.
> 
> basically AU jeanmarco, they’re young kids (13-14?) and jean’s messing around and marco’s entranced. smoking, too.

Jean had his ‘I’m-going-to-do-something-so-fucking-stupid’ expression on. The fact that he was wearing said expression in Marco’s company worried Marco even more. He loved Jean a lot, them being best buddies and all, but Jean had some really idiotic urges sometimes.

Like right now. Admittedly, Marco didn’t know yet what was in Jean’s mind t but the expression confirmed it. Marco was going to need to stop him somehow.

“So,” Jean started, standing up from his couch, “Don’t freak out. But I’m going to show you something, okay?”

Marco leaned back in his seat and turned to look at Jean, clearly unimpressed, “You know that telling me not to freak out isn’t helping? It never helps.”

Jean snickered but it seemed like he was in too good a mood for Marco’s comment to stop his smiling, “I know, I know. But seriously, just wait till you see this.” And he disappeared up the stairs of his house, probably heading to his room.

Marco let out a sigh, and dropped his head onto the couch. He had thought that maybe they’d get to play some video games today, or at least watch a movie. Marco was in need for some entertainment, and it was always great when spent with Jean.

That was probably due to the silly crush he had on his best friend, but Jean  _was_ his closest friend still, he wouldn’t choose to spend time with anyone else. But all Jean wanted to do was something probably moronic and dangerous. The things Marco sacrificed for Jean…

There was the loud sound of feet pattering down the stairs before Jean ran up to stand in front of Marco, still grinning like an idiot. Marco raised an eyebrow, also still unimpressed. Till Jean brought the box he was hiding into plain sight, as if offering it to Marco.

Marco’s jaw dropped.

Jean was holding a box of cigars. As if suddenly realizing what he was seeing, Marco spluttered, sitting straight up, “Jean! Isn’t that your dad’s?”

“Yep. And I’m gonna smoke one, too.”

“Are you insane?” Marco’s head whipped around, even if there was no one else in the house except for the two of them, “He’d kill you.”

Jean smirked, sitting down next to Marco on the couch, balancing the box on his knees, “Probably. But I’m getting back at him for that shit he pulled when you were around the last time. I’m going to tell him I sold one to some stranger. That’ll show him.”

Marco’s face twisted in worry, but he knew better not to interfere in Jean’s mind games with Mr. Kirschtein. They had a really twisted father and son relationship, and it wasn’t uncommon for Jean to seek revenge in weird ways. Apparently, this was one of them. Last week, Mr. Kirschtein had made a probably unintentional but derogatory comment about Marco and his family, and Jean had been livid. Hence, stealing one of his dad’s cigars.

Marco pulled his legs up on the couch; a feat he’d never do in the Kirschteins’ company but it was just Jean and him, now; worrying at his bottom lip with his teeth. He was nervous, no doubt. “But you don’t even smoke.”

“There’s a first time for everything, right?” Jean gingerly took one cigar out of its place in the box, mockingly gentle, before closing it again. He held the cigar in between his fingers, wiggling his eyebrows at Marco, “I’ve always wanted to try, though. I’m trusting you to watch my back if I choke on smoke or something.”

Jean reached into the pocket of his jeans and brought out a lighter. Marco made a noise of protest, “But you’ve got  _asthma.”_

The concern in Marco’s tone made Jean reach over at pat at the other boy’s leg lightly, in reassurance, before he pulled his hand back and slid it into his other pocket, pulling out his inhaler. “Like I said, man, you gotta watch my back. I’m not gonna smoke the whole box. Just one, Marco, okay? Stop fretting.”

He did worry less, but watched in equal parts fascination as well as concern as Jean lit up the cigar, watching the small flame burn its end up into an ember. It didn’t smell bad, though, as Marco was expecting. No doubt that it was one of those expensive cigars Mr. Kirschtein bought from some high-end store. Some part of Marco reveled that Jean was doing this just to spite his father; Mr. Kirschtein could be a real asshole sometimes.

Eventually, Jean brought it to his lips, and inhaled.

And coughed right away, holding the burning cigar away as he half-doubled over.

“Jean!” Marco reached for him instantly, wide-eyed, “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jean coughed again after a while, laughing slightly despite the acrid sting in his throat, “I think I did it wrong. I’m okay. Let me just try that again.”

“For god’s sake, Jean, seriously—” Marco was about to reprimand his friend again but the cigar was already poised at Jean’s lips, and the boy’s cheeks hollowed. Jean moved his hand away and blew; smoke billowing from between his lips up to the air, just short of Marco’s face.

Marco stopped breathing for a while.

The grin on Jean’s face was triumphant, victorious, as he looked at Marco, “See? Told ya. I think I got the hang of it.” And he did it again, letting tendrils of smoke wisp into the air from his lips. Marco was still staring.

Jean snickered at Marco’s expression, and held out the cigar, “You wanna try?”

“No,” Marco replied, and Jean noticed how breathless his friend sounded, “Do it again. Please?”

It was a little weird how Marco was reacting, but Jean knew that it was pretty cool, they’d never done this before and Marco was duly entitled to be surprised. He didn’t expect the starry-eyed look in his friend’s gaze but he wasn’t complaining. He liked it when Marco looked at him like that.

But he obliged, blowing smoke slower now, letting the curls of white linger rather than just puffing them away.

 Marco’s hand suddenly lifted, and he brought his fingers close to Jean’s lips, not exactly touching. The smoke wasn’t a tangible thing against Marco’s skin but he felt enthralled by it nevertheless, eyes fixated on what a picture it was; Jean, smoking.

“You okay?” asked Jean finally, a little unnerved by how intensely Marco was staring at him.

Marco answered with a nod, before his fingers lightly made contact with Jean’s lips, “I just…never realized how  _attractive_  you could look.”

Jean’s mouth dropped open at the admission. His eyes went wide. Where did that come from? Of course, he had had feelings for Marco that weren’t nearly as platonic as he would have liked, but for his long-time friend to respond in kind, and without any warning beforehand? That was surreal.

It took Jean a while, but he tried very hard not to stutter while he spoke, and failed, “H-hey. Are you into people smoking or something?”

Marco paused as well, but gave a little shrug afterwards, taking his hand away. He was still looking pretty entranced, nevertheless, “Maybe? I think so. I really like seeing you do it, at least.”

There was silence, before Jean brought the cigar to his lips again and inhaled. On the exhale, he made a decision.

“Well okay, but this definitely means this wouldn’t be my last cigar. Deal?”

Marco blinked, before smiling sweetly, hand lifting again to touch Jean’s lips, “Deal.”


End file.
